RPlog:Right Place But Wrong Time
Abyssal Ruins -- Nether Layers: Coruscant It is dark here. Any natural sunlight from the world above has long since been blocked out by the levels and levels of city above this place. Intermittent lights from windows or the few streetlights that still work shed light on the potholed street. Carbon scoring marks many walls, a sign that muggings and crime is rampant here. What is that smell? The under city has long since been forgotten by the Coruscant sanitation department, and litter thrown over the edges of higher levels flutters down, gathering in piles to be scavenged by the creatures that dwell here. Indeed, most departments of the Coruscanti government have long since abandoned the under city, including law enforcement. The beings live in darkness here like animals, with no laws, struggling to make a life in this cold, dark place. In the lower levels of the old city the feeling is far different than the world most travelers know. Dark, lawless, and cold it takes the strong of heart or those totally with out hope to venture down here. Somewhere in between lays the mind of Phair. This place feels more comfortable to her than the always on display life Faust has dragged her into since the man became a senator. The raven haired woman forgoes breathing in too deeply, but sighs none the less. She is in slightly better sprits, but the lack of sleep is taking its turn on her body. Side by side her master she says in a low voice, 'Do you care for all these people as well, My Lord?" Phair's red eyes catching a glimpse of a beggar as she speaks. "They are all my people, my dear." He comments to her matter of factly. The dark underbelly of the city was good for him; the emotional chaos that swirls down here allows him to undo the darkside shroud he had to weave around himself anytime the Jedi were near by. Letting his senses reach out, he senses the internal turmoil tearing through dozens of beings around the pair. From the robber eyeing the well dressed couple up to the Davronian down a dark alley stealing credits from the Rodian he just killed. "What do you think of this place, Phair?" His hands slip to the small of his back as his radiant blue eyes focus on his companion. . The thin woman shrugs her shoulders for a moment she doesn't have the aid of the force to see though, but some training. She knows they are being watches and feels the eyes of the down trodden upon her and her master. "I think this is the result of an endless war" Phair's hips swing as she walks something she had been working on. The effect was to draw men's eyes to the blaster she had secured to her waist, she felt more comfortable with the thought they would move along to easier prey. "I think many of these people would choose this life regardless, but still many have escaped because of the weak leadership on this and many other worlds" "It is the natural order of things. Those who are mean to be lords of their domain, and those that are meant to serve." He flashes her an almost sinister smile, his voice dropping to barely audible, as a fist clenches, " Like I told you in the past, it is a matter of choice as to which you shall be." His gaze flicks back towards the would be mugger, almost encouraging him to do something, "Many tendrils are converging on this planet, soon it shall be time to reap the reward of plans that have been in motion for years now. Returning the gem of the Galaxy to it's proper place." "Service before self..." Phair's intones softly. It was what she had lived by for so long it was hard to see more out there. It to her was the natural order in her own world. But Faust, it seemed had greater plans for the once simple woman, "Of course that isn't what you mean." The woman says as she sweeps a few stray hairs out of her face, "I look forward to leaving this place. I haven't been on one planet this long in many years." Never too lost in thought, she sees her master's body language change, tempting fate. A wry smile crosses her lips, always looking for a fight the Senator was. "I fear this place might be the death of me" It was a rare raw feeling Phair had just expressed openly "Everyone must go sometime." He reaches out and pats his assistant protectively on the shoulder, as if trying to comfort her. "Not all battles are fought in snub fighters or in massed battles, this one is more important than all of those." His hands steeple in front of him as his eyes narrow, watching the woman carefully now, "Though I sense many great battles still in your future." His attention shifts back to the base of the kilometer tall skyscrapers in the area, amid the ruins of the city that once was. The woman doesn't recoil from his touch, but she shifts around a pile of garbage and the steps remove her from her master's reach. "I understand my job, and the mission. I just..I don't know I feel like we're not just the hunters..." Looking around to make sure it's not just this place drawing her feelings, her eyes then meet Faust's "but also someone's prey" Shaking it off, she continues down the path. "I get these feelings some times....mostly in fighters though". "Those are healthy feelings. When you get too complacent, bad things happen. Then again, even a Jedi Master has a hard time seeing their own downfall." He offers the woman his arm again, as if his touch could comfort her, with all the things that had gone on in the past couple of months, he is surprised that she has not fled. "I suppose that the hunter is always the prey at some point. From underlings who crave our power and seek to unseat us in a moment of weakness to a vengeful enemy intent on wrecking hell in a war that has destroyed billions of lives." Pursing her lips and shaking her head, Phair refutes the idea but says nothing. No, to here this was something else. She does take the offered arm, but not our of her need for security. If anything she feels more uncomfortable, but it fits the cover and for some reason it seems to please her master. To leave this assignment was never an option; it was not in the woman's nature to quit. More and more however, she was looking towards the future, and away from Coruscant. "And when this is over?" "When the Republic is in Ashes and Imperial Star Destroyers once again are seen orbiting above this planet." He flashes her a smile before reaching out and placing his left, bionic hand over her forearm. "However there are a few more steps that we must go through to get to that point, Republics are very strong and don't give up their power easily." Shaking her head again, the black strands shaking behind her head, "No" she smiles, "I doubt highly I'll ever see that end, I mean this phase. Here, on Coruscant..then what?" She of course is speaking of Faust's plans for the former pilot of the New Order. "There shall be peace in the Galaxy and the war shall be over." He answers matter of factly. “As for your role, that is yet to be determined. Though your work here will make you a hero in the Empire. You will have a great many avenues open to you. Where do you see yourself? I doubt you wish to go back to the Navy. Once someone's horizons have been broadened it is impossible to return to the old boundaries. You can even detach yourself from my service, if you so choose." A hero of the Empire? Now that wasn't something Phair ever considered herself. The very idea made her smirk. A loyal cog in the Imperial war machine? Sure, but she was no hero, at least not to herself. "I..I.." she stammers "I don't know." Phair had never considered that she could pick her next posting. It seemed a lifetime ago she had chose to accept this mission that in her memory it wasn't a choice, but just another assignment. The solider didn't question the post, she had just assumed after the mission was over she would be shipped off again. "I didn't know I had a choice in the matter My lord." The confusion is as real as the filth surrounding them. "I naturally thought you would just have me re-assigned" The Senator's shoulders shrug slightly. "I can assign you, but once you reach a certain point, you find that you get to become more and more autonomous." His eyes flick over her face again, "Is this something that troubles you, being put in control of your own path. It is one of those expansive horizons." His left arm slips back to the small of his back once more, almost as if the pair was strolling along the Lakefront rather than in the cities dark, underbelly. The woman's own shoulder's rise and fall, "Many things trouble me My lord. However, none affect my performance. I refuse to let them. However as you know. I was a TIE pilot." Phair's eyes glow as she relives the glory of flying a squint. "TIE fighter pilots represent the elite of the Imperial Navy, having undergone grueling physical and psychological testing to achieve their ranks. Only 10 percent of prospective candidates are chosen for duty. The rest are reassigned throughout the Navy as combat gunners and other personnel." It is something she is extremely proud of and her body language shows it. “To a TIE pilot, the success of a given mission is paramount, eclipsing personal safety and even the safety of fellow wingmen. As a TIE pilot, we learn to view ourselves as individually expendable, yet an integral part of the Imperial war machine. We don't often chose our own path...it is a new option" Phair states, shifting her body to turn the Senator, "You have a meeting soon...we should get back" The conversation was different for the pair, almost civil throughout. It was something that made Phair think about the change over the months, and the toil this mission was taking on her. Viktor Faust nods as he lets her lead him back towards the vessel that has become their home. He flashes her a brief smile again as he reaches over and pats her shoulder, "IF you were less than elite, you probably wouldn't have caught my attention." He pulls his comlink out and opens it up, "We are returning to base." He flicks it off before continuing the walk with her. "Will you join me for lunch after my meeting? I have reservations at a pretty exclusive restaurant, if you will be my guest." Phair laughs, "I suppose. Even if I refuse, you'll just order me....so I accept, with my newly found freedom of choice" The pair moves off towards the meeting and in a direction out of the slums. The hour had grown late though in the depths of the Subterranean Bazaar, time had little bearing on the light. It was dark and the dank smell filled the nostrils of those who were not use to it. The Senator and his aide had been touring the area for a long time, and they had gone deeper than they should have ventured. This was going to make the Senator late for the meeting, an unavoidable condition no amount of hurrying could fix. Long shadows cast even darker lines over the path the pair would take back to the upper levels of the old city. The steps of the pair had quickened slightly, and Phair was having a slight bit of trouble keeping up with the long strides of her master. But, still the raven haired woman managed to stay beside the taller fair haired man. The cut throats and beggars shied away form the two, as if they had some knowledge the man and woman did not. Of course the underbelly of this world was always a buzz with rumors. Still, the red colored eyes Phair had grown used to try to pick up any sudden movements. Viktor Faust was equally distracted as well. His emotions had become conflicted of late. The time spent shrouded under a blanket of Darkside energy has taken it's toll. Plus the sheer bio-mass of dark intent has left him almost Force Blind. The fact that his data-pad keeps chirping his tardiness doesn't help. Gloved hands fold across his chest as he glances over at his assistant out of the corner of his eye. "I had not intended to let us wonder quite so far away. Committee starts soon." He moves as fast as he can without completely out pacing her. He reaches down and picks the datapad up, flicking it off with a slight growl before commenting, "I hate this thing some days." He flicks a switch again, slipping it back into the pocket of his tunic. His gaze flicks back to the path in front of them. Even considering he'd left the service of the Empire for the love of a Jedi, instead of because of the heinous atrocities that he'd observed and done nothing about while in the Imperial Army, Sandor never thought of himself as much of an extremist. Surely he hadn't considered himself capable of becoming a hitman, but then again, he'd been a government hitman for quite some time now. "You're going to kill this man, or we're going to kill your girlfriend", the simple note had said, shaking everything that Sandor believed in. It could have simply been intended for someone else - a mistake, perhaps, as he'd first hoped - until his eyes settled upon who was in the picture attached. Not really being one to follow politics, it took him a minute, but no doubt, the picture depicted the man that had been involved in the effort that stripped Johanna of her rank, and easily could have taken her very life. It had held his picture for even a few seconds after Sandor had begun to burn it. Rumors and additional notes led the pawn down the path to what, he assumed, would be his target before too long. As he sits in the relative darkness of the so-called Coruscant slums, gloves on his hand to keep from having any fingerprints appear on the rifle that had been provided, Sandor wonders just how he could let himself be moved to violence so quickly once more. And as many things as Ai'kani has taught him about how revenge is a terrible thing, the sniper knows that if he ever finds who put him into this situation, that he'll have his hands stained in legitimate murder, instead of a simple act of killing because he had been told to do so. Silently, Sandor relocates toward a better vantage point, every so often pausing to survey the area around him with the scope, just in case the information hadn't been total nonsense; in case the target may actually be nearby. It seemed to Phair that her master was always drawing her into drawing her out into remote areas for some sort of political lesson, or history lecture but either way he would have to answer to the meeting chair not her, "Of course not, Senator" the says, her voice coming out in short pants. The pilot was in no means out of shape, but walking quickly wasn't something she did often, the stun pistol under her arm bounced uncomfortably against her ribs. Under her breath she mutters, "I'm going to get a bruise.." Phair's shoes where also not made for walking long distances, and the heel strike left a click each time she took a step. The sound echoed hollow off the shells of the empty and decrepit buildings, "Are you sure this is the way we came....I remember more people out?' It isn't often that Phair openly questions her boss, she dislikes when he is angered, but still something is a foot. Viktor's lips curl slightly at the shorter woman, "The surgical droid has a cream that can help with bruising, though I am sure you already know that." The Senator is really paying no attention to the lack of people around them, till Phair mentions them. He looks around for a moment, getting his bearings. "This is the way, though like everything else in the under city. People come and go. Perhaps it is meal time down here, who can tell in a place that rarely sees the sun." He does stop walking however and his eyes narrow, "Something is out of place though, keep your wits about you. He reaches out to her briefly, before he begins to move once more, his pace slower this time to keep close to his 'bodyguard.' The scope passes between a vagabond and a group of apparent thugs before Sandor's field of vision finally passes over the target in question. It takes him a second, but after a bit of adjustment to focus in on the face, there's little doubt in his mind that he's looking at the wrong person. The only problem is that he's far enough away that the arc of the blaster shot may actually become visible for a second before it reaches it's final destination. And while Sandor highly doubts that a Senator is capable of feats that are normally attributed to combat veterans, he has no intention of finding out what would happen if he failed to carry out his assignment. After all, if someone is brazen enough to threaten the death of a Jedi, surely they could well be powerful enough to make good on the threat. 'Just breathe, you can do this, and then you can go home', the purported deserter of two sovereign nations thinks to himself, trying to steady himself for what is to come. Without a spotter, he can only guess at the range, and without an alibi, he'll have to make sure that no trace is visible when he squeezes upon the trigger. And as the last traces of oxygen are removed from his lungs, Sandor does just that, releasing either his continued salvation or his impending demise forth from the F-31 laser sniper rifle. The series of events that have brought these three together in the slums of a once proud neighborhood could not be more happenstance. A walk too long, a simple choice and a misstep. All things considered it had to be more than random fate, yet fate is very well what it seems. Phair has been hand picked to be the Senator's aide, the bodyguard aspect was a cover, to hide the fact she was an Ace pilot, something more important on this mission. In truth she needs more protection from Foust that he needed from her, but fate saw it differently. The woman with the dyed black hair, and red contacts would never have seen the shot coming. Even in her wildest dreams, she would not have imagined she would know the man would pull the trigger, a man she had served with under fire. A large pile of human refuse had come into view, and directly in the shot woman's stride. Wrinkling her nose, she steps out in front of the Senator, a move that gives her a better line of site and the direction the pair is headed. Looking up to face Faust she stops him. They are going the wrong way, they had missed the turn back to the lift a block ago, and a small smile starts to form on Phair's lips. How she is going to enjoy telling her Master, for once he was wrong. She would never get that chance. The bolt of pure energy launched from the cold rifle didn't care who it hit. Once freed upon it's course it could not be altered, it had no emotion, no cares, just a mission. It found a target. For an instant it seemed if Phair would speak, her mouth opened to start to tease Faust, but no words could form just empty movement. As the bolt hit her square between the shoulder blades her eyes opened wide focusing only on the tall man's face. The burn spread over her body, she could not control the muscles holding her up right, and then the focus in her eyes was gone. Lurching forward the weight of the woman's body presses into him. It takes only a few seconds, but it plays out like hours. Viktor starts to protest as Phair steps in front of him. The look of jubilation on her face as she gets ready to express his folly. It causes a brief bout of anger to boil up in him. "I Know what you are about to say and don't. I do not get lost." He raises a hand to begin another of his lectures, is then that something in his world flashes, he was in great danger. He opens his mouth to warn Phair as the expression on her face changes. Her widening eyes and breathless expression cause his own to narrow and almost instively he reaches out to grab her. However that is an unnecessary action as the kinetic impact of the blast propels her into him. It catches him off balance and the normally agile man is thrown back, landing with the small raven haired woman on top of him. His left leg raises as he reaches down, grabbing the small hold-out blaster kept there. "Phair? What Happ.." His words are cut off as he sees the hole in the back of her jacket, melted from the impact of the heated tibanna gas. It gives way to burned and broken flesh and meat, she is severely damaged. People around the pair scramble creating a great deal of Chaos as Viktor Faust tries to get out from under the small woman, without doing anything to damage her more. "I am a Republic Senator, Someone call the Coruscant Guard." It has failed to dawn on him up to this point to hit the panic button in his pocket, after his predecessors untimely demise the local authorities were on edge to prevent a replay of that incident, yet here it was happening again. A hit? Maybe. Double-check? Not on Sandor's life. The moment the burst of light is clear from his sniper rifle.. blaster?, Sandor breaks from his position and begins to move as quickly as possible in the opposite direction of his shot, before his mind can even begin to make sense of what had happened. Only as the steps bring him a bit away from the terrible deed he'd just performed does his mind really register what had happened - making no distance enough to take him away from what he'd done. The shot had been all but perfect, yet one single bit of bad luck had stepped in the way. "What have I done?!", the fleeing would-be assassin mutters, with a good deal of emphasis but still as quietly as he can manage. Taking the weapon with him as he tries to flee deeper into the shadows probably isn't such a great idea, but then, the Imperial commando team that had stormed the Palace had done the same, and while most of the New Republic had simply shrugged it off as a horrible tragedy, Sandor had been taking notes. All moral dilemmas aside, cold efficiency has directed the man to head toward the sewers, at least until he can get free of the scene of his crime. The limp form that is Phair doesn’t move to help her stricken master. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind where consciousness makes its last stand she feels like she is floating. Nothing that happens in the depths makes it to the surface, she is still except for the shallow breathing that shows she is alive, for not. As horrid as the wound looks, burnt flesh and exposed pulp that used to be skin it could be worse. The shot was not for her, and there for while it would have blasted through the center of Faust, it did not damage vital organs on the shorted woman. He shoulder blade had caught most of the damage on the inside and it had missed her spine. But still, it was supposed to be a killing shot. Unlike the upper levels, no crowd formed. The people that scraped out a living down in the slums didn't care of Faust and his aide died in the street, in fact they hoped they would. Then you could steal what was left. No one was willing to risk themselves, not even for the President of the Republic should it have been her and not a Senator. It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to posses and many things to fear. Viktor's mind is in a thousand places as he swings the small blaster from side to side, there had not been a second shot yet, as his senses flare. "Phair?" He questions again, this time devoting more attention on his aide. The Anger was rising again as this wasn't part of the plan. It is that time that he remembers the 'panic' button. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small cylinder. Tearing the end cap off, he depresses the red button on it and it causes chaos to happen in another part of the city. Coruscant Guard Air Speeders roar out of their base, sirens flashing as they navigate through traffic. They are still several minutes away from the tracking device concealed in the emergency locator. A mix of gunships, troop transports and ambulances make up the aerial convoy. This time however the gunships are flying lower and faster than the rest, guns scanning as they look for another repeat of the earlier incident. "Stay with me, Phair." The veteran soldier, drops the locator as he reaches down to get the woman's pulse,” If you die on me, you will be in a world of hurt." His finger slips up and down over her neck as he sweeps the blaster over the crowd once more urging people to stay back. Dark Emotions surge through him as he does his best to keep the dark side shroud in place, one slip now and Skywalker and his ilk would be all over him and his cover would be compromised. By the time the lightning response can take place, Sandor has long since disappeared; not a very difficult task in the under city of Coruscant. But no matter how deep the man might hide, the fact that Danik might have been right trails shortly behind him. How could a supposedly elite soldier.. ex-soldier make such a novice mistake as firing while civilians are within the danger zone? "I don't know!", Sandor answers his own question, hardly caring at all that the terrible stench of the sewer will probably seep into every orifice of his body, and take a very, very long shower to fully get himself free of. Keeping all further outbursts to himself, the would-be assassin begins the long process of getting clear of the area, and managing to get himself cleaned up and the weapon hidden before showing himself once more.